Expectations
by mixthealphabet
Summary: Cassandra understands the words that should remain unsaid, which seems to take Damian by surprise. Tim, as always, knows better.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Bat Clan. And it kills me. **

**Expectations** by larissa

"I'm not in this world to live up to your expectations and you're not in this world to live up to mine." ― Bruce Lee

* * *

"The one who is all, huh?"

The voice startles the dark-haired girl, who had been poring over the files on the bunker as she strained herself to read about the case Tim had asked her help in. Cassandra Cain still has some trouble with the words, but she is getting better and the practice is good for her.

The interruption is not welcomed.

"I have heard a lot about you, Cain." Damian scoffs, leaning against the side of the computer system. "Mother seemed to think that instigating me with competition would be a good way to increase my drive during training." He pauses and, even if she is not looking at the boy, Cassandra knows that he is staring at her with that superior sneer that he is so fond of. "If only I'd known you then, there would have been no competition _what so ever_."

The black bat prevents herself from rolling her eyes at him. His words don't hurt her, for she has never wanted to compete with him, nor has she ever desired the attention the League of Assassins seems to shower her with, but the arrogance of this boy is starting to get on her nerves. Especially because he just _won't stop talking_.

"I'm completely unimpressed by your technique and a bit flabbergasted by your naivety. Drake tried to explain to me that it's not naivety, though, that it's _instinct_." The last word is almost spitted out, and Cassandra can see his expression of disgust with the corner of her eyes. "Instinct to save lives and to sacrifice yourself. How plebeian of you."

The woman takes a deep breath, because the immaturity of this robin is something she never had to deal with before.

"I feel like you're repeating yourself." She states in an even tone, eyes fixed on the computer screen.

Damian straightens himself, tensing his body in what might be anger or embarrassment. Cassandra isn't sure, but the reaction makes her smile.

"Maybe I am. I just wanted to make sure you knew your place, Cain." He crosses his arms, approaching her seat with an air that probably should be intimidating. Cassandra only sees a boy who thinks he has a lot to prove, but not enough experience to do so. She realizes he is just like her in that sense; not a lot of experience on anything. "I'm the Batman's son. His _only_ son. You, like all the others, is just a charity case."

And he turns to leave.

The girl spins the chair so that she is looking directly at his retreating back.

"Damian Wayne." She utters. "I have heard of you, as well, you know?" Her fingers tap the armrest lightly, and the boy before her stops walking, but doesn't turn to look at her. "Talia Al Ghul's son, an attempt at the perfect child, the perfect soldier and king to our society."

Cassandra stops and stares at his back; there is a strange weight in her gaze, though, as if she wants to say something but doesn't know if she should.

_The second attempt at the perfect child, actually. A copy of a previous project from the League of Assassins, which had previously tried to create the ultimate killer and failed._ She wants to yell at him, to mock him. _Well, they didn't fail with you, did they?_

_You see, they made a killer out of me before making me a killer. I could read movements and I could learn any sort of fighting technique within twenty minutes, but I was still a child, mentally unprepared for what taking a life would mean. They didn't make that mistake again. You know everything about feeling and inflicting pain, but being the perfect soldier made you imperfect in every other sense._

The woman frowns, seeing the way her silence has put the boy in a state of anxiety; clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, without so much as glancing in her direction. He was still waiting.

"Yes, I have heard of you." Cassandra spins the chair back to its previous position, focusing on the computer screen and ignoring how her nonchalant tone makes Damian grit his teeth. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "I expected you to be taller. I guess we're both unimpressed."

Damian takes a moment to process her words, before huffing in indignation and storming out of the bunker. Behind her, someone slowly starts to clap, attracting her attention. She finds Tim, still in his Red Robin getup.

"Not that I don't always miss you, Cass, but it's moments like these that make me truly understand how much I wish you could stay with us longer." He comments in a low voice, chuckling lightly, but the way he seems to be restraining himself not to reach out for her makes the woman think he really does mean that. The idea of his affection makes her smile grow. "And thanks for holding back. I know it's difficult not to try to kill, maim or harm the brat."

She just shrugs.

"I wasn't going to."

But there is a knowing _something_ in the manner Tim smirks back at her, and Cassandra feels herself trying to escape his gaze.

"Your words could cause more harm than you realize." He replies finally, taking the cowl off. "Don't get me wrong, I'm the one who wants that child to learn his place more than anyone else in this house, but Dick thinks he is just insecure about whether he belongs in here, he thinks the boy already questions himself enough without our lectures on how his choices might be changing, but his instinct is what is truly wrong with him."

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's curious, actually, how you are what your nature made you, not what you were raised to be, and how Damian is trying to go against all his predispositions in order to be just a little bit more like you and Bruce."

Cassandra furrows her brows and drops her gaze to the keyboard.

"Words can be difficult." She pauses. "Difficult things to say, difficult things to hear." Her eyes glance at the boy, who is, by now, right behind her. "Within the League of Assassins is not the place for a child to be, to grow."

The black bat doesn't risk looking at Tim again, for she doesn't want his pity, nor his understanding. Instead, she welcomes the warmth of his hand on her shoulder and the comfort such a simple gesture seems to give her. With new found energy, Cassandra turns her attention to the files she'd been reading before Damian's interruption.

* * *

So... This one is all on me. I hope people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
